Long ago, when the progenitor first wrote the Heavenly Tome, the ancients looked up to the skies and saw a wonder unlike any other: three suns, not wandering but aligned.
One blaze, three halos.
One will. Three gazes.
And thus, they named that day Heavens—for what else could it be?
On that sacred alignment, mortals discovered something strange:
Words written in truth—raw, unfiltered, born of sleepless nights and hungry thoughts—caught fire.
No, not fire as we know it. These were not flames that burn, but ones that birthed.
From the pages of their deepest thoughts, sparks rose.
And from these sparks, came Spirits.
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The Sparks of Life
These were not creatures. Not beasts, nor blades. No shape of steel or claw.
The ancients called them Heavenly Spirits, and we still do.
They looked like fairies of light, if you must imagine it—tiny flickers, dancing flames shaped like people without faces, without wings, without weight. Just presence.
Have you ever looked directly at the sun and known its expression?
Of course not.
So too with these spirits. They do not speak. They do not fight.
They simply exist.
Proof that the Heavens have seen you… and answered.
These spirits emerge as Sparks of Life, and they are not equal.
The ancients discovered that their brightness, clarity, and resonance could be graded, seven in all:
1. Ember – A spark barely alive, yet still divine.
2. Kindle – A flicker with intent, but no shape.
3. Glint – A shining shard of the soul.
4. Flame – Alive and bright, beginning to dance.
5. Radiance – Clear, sharp, undeniable.
6. Blaze – A presence that hums with inner might.
7. Halo – So bright that it darws to compete against the Suns!
Every grade is a difference in quality not quantity. Hence, the difference between ordinary and genius. Embers and kindles are present everywhere yet Radiance is scarce. So scarce that they are termed, Heavenly Chosen. As for Blaze, as their name suggests, they blaze an entirely new era.
Halo? That us a myth. Passed down since ancient times, unseen for ages, unknown by any.
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The Trial Itself
But the flames are not the trial.
They are merely invitations.
For the Heavenly Trial is not a festival.
It is not a celebration.
It is a Questioning.
Three questions.
Simple, yet crushing.
1. WHAT IS YOUR DESIRE?
2. WHAT IS YOUR PASSION?
3. WHAT IS YOUR DISCIPLINE?
The Heavens do not shout. They do not reason.
They Question.
They Question with weight no bone can bear, no pride can withstand. The sky leans in. The air becomes stone. And beneath that weight, every lie falls away.
You cannot fake your way through a Heavenly Trial.
You cannot recite verses or borrow quotes.
Only one voice can answer: the true self.
And it must scream, or be silent forever.
That is why most fall silent.
Not because they don't know the answers—
but because they never asked themselves the questions.
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The Age of Trials
And so, over centuries, kingdoms rose and fell. But one thing remained sacred.
This day.
Every youth across every continent, whether scholar or swordsman, peasant or prince—
all must face the sky when the three suns rise as one.
Some academies banned distractions.
Others encouraged freedom.
All tried, in vain, to predict who would spark and who would not.
But the Heavens do not play dice.
Nor do they reward effort alone.
They reward truth.
Today, as it has for thousands of years, the world once again prepares.
Scrolls are rewritten.
Tomes are opened.
Hearts beat faster beneath cloaks of ceremony.
Because today, the Heavenly Trials descend again.
Not just on one youth…
But upon an entire world, one soul at a time.
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